Set directly after the Raid on VB

Blood streamed down her face, the air cold as she raced away from the Brook- from the battle she'd been apart of. Yelena did not race home, and instead raced up the mountain, until her lungs heaved and her paws slowed- bringing her to a lookout. She stared out across the lookout, studying the land beneath as she slumped down onto her haunches. Her body ached, her chest straining for air.

She did not understand why her memories were more of a weapon to her than anyone's claws and teeth. Yes the wounds from the female hurt, they stung so fiercely she thought she'd pass out from the pain and blood loss and yet... it was the war raging in her mind.

A shuddering sigh left her, and Yelena stared out over the night dark land. She wondered if she'd ever see salvation from the ghosts trapped within her mind, and if she didn't... she wondered how she'd survive.

ART BY YUMPY, CODE BY LARS

the scent of blood is heavy on the horizon. she can hear the tired pitch of breath in the distance. the thundering of paws.

she drops the sparse greenery that she's collected from here on the lookout, her claws abandoning the ferns and its meager roots which so desperately search for sun through the rock and slate. imogen feels herself stiffen, torn and tattered paws hitching her to the ground. for a moment, she feels her body sway as if she's going to topple with worry in anticipation of the faces to appear over the slope of the lookout.

though, when they come into view, the combat medic manages to exhale a sigh of relief. only an injured lioness. injured. who or what had done this to her, imogen doesn't know, but it is in her duty... it is instinct that her rosy eyes trace over the fresh wounds that that been carved into her. in the distance between them, imogen notices that the other lioness hadn't spotted her. it seemed that fear and adrenaline had brought her here, tunnel vision in an attempt at escape.

imogen knows that all too well.

"maṭa samāvenna," excuse me, she starts, clearing her throat she attempts to cast her wispy voice out into the space between them. "i want to help you." imogen offers in the common tongue, the words slow and clumsy as she returns to sweep her ferns and messy bundle of herbs close to her. she had done more with less and is confident that she can help to ease her pain somewhat. "is okay?"

@Yelena

medic
+5 Collect herbs
+10 Heal a character’s sickness or injury

ambassador
+5 Learn a character’s full name and rank

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There is a voice, and the battle-worn female made her start when she spoke. Her heart hammers in her chest, the anxieties of the mind threatening to take her back to that forbidding and dark place, and yet, she forces herself to speak. "Es hurt." She said, turning her head to face the stranger, who had spoke of help. Turning should allow her to see the bloody face, fresh with scars that she did not wish to keep.

"Did not want to fight." She said slowly. "No more fighting."

Would she ever be able to simply spar and not be sucked back into her mind?

Probably not.

"Is okay." She agreed. What could this lioness do to her that was worse than her mind at this point?

So she sat still, wide violet eye watching, though the scratches near the other made it swollen and hard to see.

@Imogen

ART BY YUMPY, CODE BY LARS

imogen doesn't move a muscle. a flutter of her whiskers is the only sign that she is more than a statue, recognizing all too well the way the woman is flush with nerves. when the golden lioness responds, angling her face to reveal the gnarly wounds slashing through otherwise delicate features, the medic takes a step closer, scooting her herbs along with her. its all too natural, horrifingly so, the way she doesn't flinch or shy away from the red that stains her fur, the way that seeing tissues beneath the skin doesn't make her stomach flip.

she listens as the woman states that she didn't want to fight and imogen's ears cup backward against her head. she's wordless but attentive, her mind churning as she works out how to best handle the stranger's injuries - but as her rosy gaze meets violet, imogen wonders if there are scars there that can't be mended with poultices and salves. "nobody wins. never good ending," oh! how she wishes that she could promise her peace everyday, no more battles and the flash of fang. "but no fight here." the dusky feline offers a soft smile that causes the freckles across her cheeks to ripple.

carefully, imogen takes the root of an old african palm between her teeth and punctures it over a clump of moss and ferns. the oil dribbles down her chin and onto the moss and once its saturated, she sits down at her patient's side. "are you safe now?" the woman attempts to talk to her. to soothe her, if anything, before she beings her work. "are you ...okay?" physically, she will survive, but was she okay?

as she awaits an answer, she takes the antiseptic covered moss in her jaws and leans forward to begin cleaning the wound, hoping to be as gentle as possible. usually, there was an urgency and a lack of tenderness - a matter of life and death. imogen is glad that today, the blood on her paws won't be from the dead.

@Yelena

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she is nothing more than a broken doll, cast away from her home by her own cowardice- wishing only for naps and peace now. she breathes out, staring at the other lioness- studying her with her one eye that she can actually see with. a small chartreux female, with red eyes- a strange sort of color against yelena's own golden palomino colors and swirls and yet, there is something appealing about her. the silence, the way she just looks at yelena as if she can actually see her.

she speaks, her words broken like yelena's own as if common tongue is not her first language. not her comfort. "no fight here." she agrees, repeating the others words almost dumbly. she watches as the female pulls herbs out of her stash, and studies the plants. she knows very very little about plants, save from some exceedingly basic combat medicine- enough to keep herself alive until she could see a healer but nothing more.

"raid against zee pride of brook." she said quietly. "zee king of zee plains requested fighters. thought myself only to steal some prey. female did not like." she muttered. she was ashamed, really of the near childish loss. yet... she hadn't really wanted to fight. "fights not me. me nap." she admits.

there is a slight sting as the antiseptic properties of the medicines creep into her body, and yet she is still as a tree. holding ramrod straight, trying not to wince or show pain. are you okay?

no. will she ever be okay?

Yelena simply shakes her head in response. "no."

@Imogen

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she reminds her of home.

home was war-torn and ragged. but her kin were warm and bright-eyed. they were a large band turned small. their primitive yet peaceful ways had made them an easy target for the emboldened and greedy. imogen's kin had never been trained to be soldiers - had never wanted to fight - but words and offerings no longer worked to keep one another safe. she had been stuck within the crossfire.

and this woman and her plight, remind her of home. the story spun of what happened is as tragic as it is short. she had been drafted to fight for her king in a raid, it seems. if the golden lioness is this torn, imogen can hardly imagine what the cats of this "brook" looked like. its no laughing matter, but as her patient says that she would rather nap than fight, the dusky lioness cannot help the small huff of laughter that pulls from her lips. "show me the best sun spots when you heal." she teases, but the gleam in her eye tells that she truly, honestly, would not mind the company of a champion sunbather.

she is stiff and sphinx like as imogen works. the cat knows that it must hurt and hums a soothing purr as distraction as she continues to cleanse away blood, fur and dirt. the "no that follows does not surprise her. imogen discards the soiled moss and turns her attention to the bulbous leaves she had collected from the cracks of the peak. setting it among the flat stone, she crushes it until enough of its life flows from the stems and creates a thick paste with the leaf. antibacterial and anti-inflammatory; enough to stave infection and relieve the swelling of her face. she swoops up the goop and moves to layer it over her now clean canvas that was her patient's face.

"will you stay?" the question leaves her dangerously slow, still tinged with a trilling purr. "not fair that you suffer." imogen hardly knows of her or her situation but it pains her still. "deserve peace..." she trails off for a moment, ensuring that she packs the wound with more of the medicinal paste. "and good sleep."

@Yelena

CODE AND ART BY JAVS

she had been raised since a cub to fight, to wage war in tight formation to maim to and to kill. yet, it was never what yelena wanted. she was happy to watch butterflies flutter past, and bask in the sun. she hadn't been pretty enough to be chosen as one of the kings wives- not that she wanted that either, but at least his wives, had more relaxed and less war-torn lifestyles. to put it simply, yelena had been born into a world where she never belonged.

she did not regret leaving, and not looking back. yet she did regret the events that led to her shot at freedom. the massacre of her sisters, of her friends.

the herbs burned and soothed, but the pain was something she loved and hated at the same time. it was clarifying, and brought her to focus on the present. "the plains had many flat rocks for sunning, but want to see zee coast." she does admit, as summer comes, she wonders what the sea-shore will have for sunning, and in her mind- it's a plan. she will find this healer, and show her all the best sunning spots.

"zee king es one for naps. will speak with him, let him know i prefer naps- no fighting." he didn't seem the tyrant that her king had once been. "he may understand." and she did, really like him. perhaps she could become useful in another way.

"zee plains are good. many females, but on training for war." she said thoughtfully, thinking of the females there, and those she'd met. "many kinds of lion."

@Imogen

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her patient describes the plains as a great place for sunning. at that, imogen's ears twist at attention, particularly when the golden women mentions wanting to see the coast. she had always been fond of the freedom and relief that came with water. "take me with you, miturā," friend - the word flows from her lips, mixing effortlessly with the common tongue. as she applies the last of the salve to her wounds, imogen takes a small step back to look at her handiwork - a clean and disinfected laceration with ointment generously spread over. it will hold her until she can seek a follow up at her home in the plains, where imogen only hopes they have a dedicated healer while training for war.

a sigh of relief leaves her in a heavy breath when she hears that the king could be open to her finding some other duty. there's still some worry left clinging to imogen, told by the way her whiskers press tightly against her muzzle, but she trusts that the woman knows what best for herself. the last thing she wanted was to find her again but in worse shape. next time, what if she were not as fortunate? "don't let me find you like this again, hm?" equal parts teasing and serious, a single brow raises in a silent promise?

"name?" she then asks, her tail twisting behind her curiously. imogen feels invested in this stranger's journey now - her ambition to laze on the coast, the healing of her face and mind, and all else to follow her in this valley. a natural nurturer imogen cannot help but to fret. "i'm imogen. from far, far off." a pale paw lifts from the ground, waving out into the distance, way beyond the pines and the ocean visible from the lookout.

@Yelena

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"OOC-- Sorry I missed this tag during the Discord cleanout/ and assorted things"

She rather found the wryness and the strange familiarity of the females not so smooth common tongue to be oddly refreshing, and a bit of kinship stirred within her. A lazy grin spreads across her face, as the female speaks, and when she uses a word that Yelena does not know, she questions it with a gentle quirk of her golden brow. "miturā?" Perhaps the pronunciation of the word was rather butchered, but she tried.

"Will try. Try to stay out of fights. Use brain instead of body maybe." Or perhaps she'd have to learn how to train, how to fight without freezing up. "You find me again?" She asks with a grin, a bit of a tease to it.

Imogen. The name is one that Yelena will remember for the wit and kindness offered to her. "Yelena. Also far from here, am from." Her words- of course a bit backwards, but the point is there, no?

"Shore day zis summer?" She asks about the idea of a beach day, curious about the idea of spending a day lazing with the kind healer. her wounds are soothed from the balm of the females herbs, and Yelena looks down to study them, curiously. "Zee herbs, what are?" She asked carefully, gaze on the salve that she could still see- eyes crossing in a weird way. "Not zee before. Nice they feel." She adds.

@Imogen

ART BY YUMPY, CODE BY LARS

the repetition of her native tongue makes her smile. her freckles crinkle beneath her eyes, too white teeth exposed joyously. her patient's accent cuts through the word, but its still recognizable and with a purr, imogen replies, "it means friend," there's a curious gleam in her eye as to how the woman will take to being deemed her new buddy. imogen isn't leaving her much of a choice, determined to check in again at the plains to see how she's faring. or rather, it sounds like they would see each other sooner rather than later on an impromptu beach date.

"yes, finding you should be easy, stripes," there's something natural about their banter and the little combat medic is provided with a comfort she hasn't experienced since being with her kin. "we stuck now."

@Yelena. it flows easily enough and for that imogen is grateful. they're more alike than she had initially thought and with a final once over yelena's now well treated injury, the final remnants of anxiety and worry melt away. and finally, the invitation truly comes to spend time together and imogen's paws needle the rocky ledge of the peak in anticipation. she nods before she responds, "anything to keep away the heat," a sidelong glance at her friend, swallowing down a gentle laugh. "and keep eye on you."

the herbs in question at her paws are pushed towards yelena. "palm oil clean. buchu leaf keep from going ah- bad. stop pain too, yeah?" neatly, dainty paws seeks to roll them together with ferns she had found earlier. its a small packet that is surprisingly neat after being done in such haste and for one that has paws instead of hands. "take with you."

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